


What Holds Us Together

by clare009



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:11:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2479316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clare009/pseuds/clare009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Terminus, it's only inevitable that their relationship changes. For better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keeping Watch

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of drabbles and ficlets that are tied together, based on spoilers for season five and my own interpretation of them. Bound to be AU at some point.

He couldn't stop himself from looking at her. They were supposed to be on watch outside the little church they'd holed up in, but while she continued to scan the perimeter, the only object in his field of vision was her. Every so often he'd try and turn his head and do his job, but moments later he'd find himself drawn back to her, like a magnet.

 

She had a scrape along her jawline under her left ear, and there was a bruise forming on her right temple, residuals of the scuffle she'd been involved in at Terminus. Some of the blood she'd used to camouflage herself with still coated strands of hair, even after she'd doused herself with water in the nearby creek. He'd watched her do that, ostensibly to keep an eye out for walkers, but she was all he could focus on. In fact, ever since they'd found each other, he'd not been able to take his eyes off her.

 

And after that one moment when they'd first found each other and their eyes had locked, hers widening in recognition, she'd not looked at him since.

 

Daryl adjusted his crossbow over his shoulder and sidled closer to her. He didn't think he imagined it when she shifted an inch to maintain a certain distance between them.

 

He cleared his throat. "I don't care," he said.

 

Carol flinched, and he caught her rapidly blinking. She kept her mouth stoically shut.

 

"I know what happened. Rick told me. And don't think I ain't finished that discussion with him about what he done to you. But whatever. I don't give a fuck. You did what you did and you had your reasons, even if you didn't want to tell me--"

 

"Daryl…"  His name from her lips was a sigh.

 

"I understand. And I told you: I don't care."

 

"There was no time. Everyone was in danger. I didn't want to burden… the committee… Nobody should have to make that decision. So I did it. It was me--"

 

"I know. I know what you did." For the first time she turned to him, and he could see the film of water in her eyes that she refused to shed. He lifted up her chin with two fingers to keep her there. "Tyreese. The girls. All of it. Do you understand me?"

 

After a moment, she gave a short nod, and he slid his fingers along her jaw until he cupped the back of her head. Daryl let out a breath, suddenly realizing he'd been holding it. Then he did something he never thought he would do. He bent his head and brushed his lips to hers.

 

It was only for a second, and he didn't give her time to respond before he jerked his head back. But he continued to hold the back of her head. "Do you understand me?" he repeated.

 

The corner of her mouth twitched. It was almost a smile, a ghost of Carol from before. "I think so," she said.

 

"Good." He released the back of her head, but moved his hand across her shoulder and down her arm until he reached her hand, where he slotted his fingers neatly with hers. It was only then that he found he could look away and keep a watch on the trees for signs of danger.

 

 


	2. Together

They had been on the run together for three days, and Carol felt as if a weight had started to lift from her shoulders. 

It was just her and Daryl, and she knew being separated from the rest of the group whittled down their chances of survival, so it was pretty dumb of her to feel like she could let her guard down. But her and Daryl worked together like a smoothly oiled machine. They could communicate with a head nod or the jerk of a shoulder. They knew instinctively when to run and when to hide. They had each other's back. And what's more, ever since Daryl had slipped his hand into hers and voiced his acceptance of her past choices, the heavy pressure of guilt had melted away. 

They were holed up in a gas station for the night. Daryl made sure the two exits were secure while Carol scrounged up a meal of crackers and spaghetti out of the can. He joined her on the thin blanket she'd spread out on the floor behind the counter, and they passed the spaghetti can back and forth along with the canteen of water.

Their cold dinner passed in silence, and then once everything was cleared, Carol pulled her pack up and settled down to sleep. 

As she'd done the last two nights, she curled up on her side and closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and waited. She listened to the small noises Daryl made as he checked the exits one more time, then he sat beside her and inspected every inch of his crossbow. After he was done tweaking the weapon, he finally set it aside, pulled his pack up and settled down next to her. 

Carol felt him shift and twist until he reached a comfortable position. His back was turned to hers, and there was a good few inches between them, yet she still felt the heat that radiated from his body. She gave herself a little smile before she feigned a sleepy yawn and rolled over to snuggle up to his back. 

Daryl stiffened at the contact, but Carol faked a few soft snores, and after a moment she felt him relax. Not too long after that, his own breathing deepened as he fell into sleep. With the release of the weight she'd been feeling, there was something else that was creeping in to take its place, a small bubble beneath her chest that she hesitated to give a name to. It didn't matter what it was, only that it was there. This world they lived in was too fleeting to care about labels. She'd finally figured that out. 

Not wanting to wake him, she gently slipped her arm around Daryl's waist and rested her cheek against his back. It was only when he wrapped his hand around hers and tugged her closer did she let go of the very last touch of heaviness that had been resting on her soul.


	3. Down to the Skin

The trail had turned cold in Atlanta.

Carol was quick to formulate a plan. They made base camp in an enclosed skywalk between two buildings after clearing out the few walkers that remained, and then agreed to scout the city for signs of their prey the following day. 

They both spent a good portion of the afternoon picking through the buildings on either side of the skywalk, mostly mazes of grey office partitions, for food and other necessities. Atop one of the buildings they found a cistern filled with rainwater, and Carol had them both hauling as much water as they could down to their little camp. 

After dinner, she boiled the water over their makeshift stove, and filled their canteens and as many bottles as they'd been able to scrounge up. Once she was through, she continued with the process of heating up the rainwater only to dump it in a plastic trash can she'd picked up in one of the offices. 

Daryl didn't pay much attention to what she was doing. He prowled back and forth, squinting out of the darkened windows of the skywalk into the twilight as if he could conjure up some sign of the people they were pursuing. It was only when he turned to glance at her, and found her standing up and matter of factly unbuttoning her shirt, did he take notice.

Carol tugged the shirt off and laid it on top of her pack, then she reached for the hem of her tank. 

"Whatcha doing?" His voice was scratchy from lack of use. 

"I need to get clean," she said with a shrug. "Don't remember when last I bathed. I feel disgusting."

Her tank went the same way as her shirt, and she stood in front of him in her bra. She reached behind her to unsnap the undergarment and Daryl blinked. He rapidly turned away as he fought the burn in his cheeks. After swallowing back the urge to sputter, he said. "You washed in the creek back at the church, remember."

"Pfft. Dousing myself in cold water fully clothed was hardly enough to get me clean. No. I have a small bar of soap and, more importantly, a pail of hot water. I'm going to have to get down to the skin for this." She chuckled. "You should probably take a turn when I'm done. And really, I've dressed and undressed in front of you a thousand times. What's the big deal?"

"S'not the same."

it wasn't. Sure they'd all changed in front of each other, but typically in the dark, or in a hurry, and never beyond underwear. 

He'd never seen her completely naked. 

"I'll let you know when I'm done, then," she said.

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the sound of the water as she dipped her rag, and the soft susurration she uttered when she dragged the soapy rag across her skin. He bit his lip, then chewed it, squinting into the setting sun. 

Carol seemed to take forever. Curiosity got the best of him and he glanced in her direction. 

She was kneeling on the floor with her back to him, not a stitch of clothing on. He followed the line of her spine from the base all the way up to her arched neck as she rinsed the soap from her throat. As she bent over the steaming water, her round ass waved in front of him like a ripe peach, then she sat back on her haunches as she stretched out an arm and ran the wet rag along it from her wrist to her armpit. He was given a glimpse of the curve of her breast, water running in rivulets over it and circling the pink edge of an areola. 

Daryl swallowed and felt a tightening in his pants. 

He whirled around and squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn't unsee the expanse of her skin. Nor could he get rid of the urge set his tongue there to taste it. 

She made him start when she said "I'm done. The water's still a warm. You can use the soap."

Daryl turned reluctantly, grateful to find she'd pulled her clothes back on. Still, she was naked underneath them. 

Carol held out the rag and the soap to him, and he was about to shake his head in a 'no', but the look she gave him told him she'd wash him forcibly if he didn't do it himself.

"Fine," he said, stalking over and grabbing the stuff from her hand, twitching a little at the shock that ran through him when their fingers brushed. 

"I'll keep a look out, okay? I won't peek. Promise."

Daryl nodded. He tried to make his mind go blank as he brusquely removed his clothes. He pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his boots and only hesitated a fraction before pulling down his pants in one go. 

His fucking dick was hard as a rock. 

He washed as quickly as he could while still being thorough. The warm water was a little sudsy from when Carol had used it to rinse herself, and he tried not to think about how the same rag and sliver of soap that he was now using had caressed her skin only moments before.

When he reached between his legs to scrub, his fingers brushed his dick and a groan escaped him. He choked and coughed to cover the sound he'd made. 

He finally pulled his clothes back on and slapped the soap and rag back into Carol's waiting hand. "Happy?"

"Extremely."

He growled as he stalked away from her to pick up his crossbow and begin his nightly ritual inspection.


	4. Inevitable

"Jesus! You've got to be more careful," Carol said as she rushed over to help Daryl up from under the walker. He shrugged off her offer of assistance and pushed the walker away before rolling to his feet. They'd found a small group prowling the entrance to their hideout and instead of circling back to the alternate entrance, he'd insisted on taking them all out before they went inside. 

The day had not been a productive one. They'd spent as many daylight hours as they could combing the streets of Atlanta looking for signs of their quarry, but had come up with nothing. And more than that, Daryl had seemed to be a bit sloppy, even careless, when it came to his dealings with the walkers. This last one was the last straw for Carol. 

They climbed the stairwell and Carol forced her way past Daryl to take lead. "What gives?" He said with a snarl. 

"I'm not taking any chances with the mood you're in. There could be a sea of them waiting for us up there and you'd go barreling right into them. You're off your game today." 

He snorted. "Yeah, well I didn't get much sleep last night." 

"That wasn't my fault. Besides, lack of sleep has never dulled your edge before." 

She crept around the corner of the stairwell, ready to grab Daryl and flee if needed, but the landing was empty. They made it back to their small camp in the skywalk without incident. Carol released her pack from her shoulders with a groan and set her weapon carefully on the ground. "C'mon. Let's eat something. I'm sure we'll find the trail tomorrow." 

"What if we don't?" 

"Then we'll keep looking." 

"Rick said he'd give us a week. " 

"We'll find it, Daryl. We'll find them. I refuse to lose anyone else, got it?" 

He gave her a short nod of the head. "Yeah. Got it." 

Dinner was brief and silent, as usual. The only difference Carol noticed was something intangible. It was in the air, some sort of prickling current that ran between them. She didn't know what had changed, but each time she looked up at Daryl, he was watching her, and the look in his eyes was different. Hungry. It made her feel warm. 

They cleared away the trash from dinner and began to inventory their supplies together. Carol frowned when she noticed fresh blood seeping through a rip in Daryl's shirt on the back of his right shoulder. 

"Are you hurt? What happened?" She scrambled over to him and reached out. 

Daryl flinched away from her. "S'nothing." 

"It's not nothing. You're bleeding. Was it a walker? Were you scratched?" 

She inched towards him more slowly and touched the blood had soaked through the shoulder of his sleeve. Some of it was still fresh.

"Take it off. Let me have a look." 

"I told you, it's nothing. I scraped it on the paving stone. when that walker fell on top of me. It'll be fine." 

"Don't be stupid. I have a bit of antiseptic cream. Let me at least clean it and treat it. Even a small cut can become infected." She levelled him a glare and dared him to argue with her. 

Daryl shrugged. "Fine." 

He yanked off his vest, then winced as he turned and unbuttoned the shirt. He pulled it off his shoulder to show her the cut. Carol blanched. She was used to cuts and gashes, but for some reason, seeing him hurt like this made her queasy. She dug in her pack for her supplies, then set about cleaning the jagged cut first with water to get rid of the already congealed blood and dirt, and then spread as much antiseptic over it as she could spare. Daryl hissed as she dabbed at the cut. 

She tended to him in silence, her fingers soft and careful. He had good shoulders, she noted. Thick and muscular. Working the crossbow had seen to that. She let her fingers trail from the cut down his bicep, and Daryl hissed again. 

It was a different sort of sound. 

"Sorry," she said, feeling her cheeks grow hot. 

He turned swiftly and grasped her face with one hand, not roughly, but firm enough to hold her there. "What're you doing to me?" 

She opened her mouth to stutter a reply, but her breath was cut short as his lips pressed hard against hers. 

Carol gasped at the sudden bruising kiss. It was so completely different to the brief brush of the lips they'd shared outside the church a few days ago. 

As her lips parted, his tongue thrust inside her mouth. Without hesitation, she met it with her own. They kissed hard and fierce, teeth clashing, and at some point, she didn't know when, he'd wormed his hand beneath her shirt to grasp her breast. His touch felt so good she pushed herself up against him and straddled his thighs. His hand on her back held her in place while he continued to kiss her and clutch at her breast. 

It didn't matter that his technique was more enthusiasm than finesse, Carol felt everything send a spool of pleasure down to her center that made her ache. She reached for his belt and began to undo him, then pulled his pants down as he pushed her to the floor. Daryl groaned when she grasped his cock. This was going to go fast, she knew it, but she didn't care. "I need you," she said breathlessly as his mouth latched onto her neck. She hiked her shirt up to give him better access to her breasts, then guided his head to one of her hard nipples, crying out as he sucked it between his teeth. 

It took a few seconds of shuffling and tugging to rid herself of her pants, but before she knew it, he was resting back between her splayed thighs, his cock nudging her entrance. She looked up at him, his eyes were dark with need, but he was holding himself back. She gave him a short nod, and he grunted as he pushed into her. 

Carol gasped. He was thicker than she'd expected, and even though she was slick with need, it took a moment for her to adjust. He thrust his hips, making her gasp once more, this time with pleasure. It wasn't going to take her long. They'd been having foreplay for damn near two years. Daryl braced himself and thrust into her over and over, becoming more and more erratic. "Fuck, Carol..." he said with a whine. "You feel so damn good. I can't..." 

"That's it, oh…" He was hitting exactly the right spot. 

He screwed his eyes shut. "I can't… shit, I'm gonna--" 

"Let go, honey," she said, and felt him tense. He slammed into her one more time and let out a roar as he released inside her. 

When he came back to earth, he was still braced above her. His eyes widened. "Oh god, Carol, I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry. I couldn't hold on." 

He slipped out of her and started to roll away, and she could see him shutting down, but she grabbed his hand and pulled it down between her legs. "I'm not done, yet," she said fiercely. 

Turning, he glanced at her in surprise. Carol smirked. "I still need you." 

She moved his fingers in circles over her clit, biting her lip at how incredible it felt. Daryl got the idea pretty quickly, and smiled as he took over. "You like that?"

"Uh huh. Feels good."

"What else?"

"Mmm… inside. Touch me inside, Daryl." He nodded, and shifted to use his other hand to slip a finger into her, then two. "Yes. That's it. Push up, make a hook, just like that… oh… oh!"

"I got you," he said, his tone soft with awe. Carol nodded and gave into the sensations he was working inside her. Before long, she was wound tight, and then, as she looked into his eyes she, came with a gasp, her hips jerking, and the walls of her vagina spasming around his fingers. 

After, there wasn't room for words. They pulled their clothing back into place and continued their preparations for the following day, before bedding down together for the night. As she slid her arm around him and curled up against his back, Carol wondered if things had changed between them. As she drifted off, she realised that if not now, they would have had sex at some point, but it didn't change a single thing between them.

When she woke in the morning, he was gone.


	5. Lost

He woke before she did, and couldn't bring himself to rouse her. She usually didn't sleep well, the dark smudges under her eyes that weren't dirt were evidence of that. So, he slipped out from her embrace, pulled on his pants, stuffed his feet into his boots and slung his cross bow over his bare back. He stepped out, cautiously, to take a piss. He hadn't taken even a handful of minutes, when he heard her scream. 

Fuck. She was on the other side of the building. Daryl ran, his heart beating so hard he thought he was going to pass out. The stray walkers in his way didn't stand a chance. 

He ran as fast as he was physically able, but it wasn't enough. He turned the corner of the block just as he saw them pick her up and load her into the car. 

"No!" 

They didn't hear him. Or didn't want to hear him. They didn't even pause to glance his way, merely slammed the doors shut and sped off. He chased them on foot and yelled at them until his lungs burned. And then he was down on his knees in the middle of the road, and he couldn't stem the flow of emotions as he slowly began to crumple in on himself. 

It was the same fuckers they'd been stalking. The ones that had taken Michonne. The ones that had taken Beth. And now they had her. 

The groans of walkers wormed their way into his consciousness and he started up from the ground. Daryl leaped to his feet and pointed his bow in every direction, but he couldn't see them. They were close, but he was surrounded by concrete and had no sense of direction in this god-forsaken city. 

All the buildings looked the same, and so he ran, first in one direction, and then another. He dodged walkers and killed more. His chest was ablaze with pain and he couldn't see for the shit leaking from his eyes. He ran into a couple of walls and spun around. 

And then he saw something glinting in a patch of sunlight that had filtered through one of the alleyways. Caryl's knife. The knuckle duster. She was always leaving her knife lying around. He walked up to it and picked it off the ground, turning it over in his hands and testing the sharpness of the blade. It made a thin line of red on his thumb. 

The pain from the cut lanced through him, and he hissed. 

He had a vision, then, of the woods outside a burning Terminus, and she was there, her rifle over her shoulder like Annie Oakley or some shit. He thought she was the angel of Death come to free him. But she wasn't. She was just Carol. And she was the most god damn beautiful thing he'd ever seen. 

Daryl licked at his bleeding thumb and began to collect his thoughts. 

She was still alive. So were the others. They'd had a plan. He needed to stick to the plan. 

He looked up and saw he was standing outside the place where they'd holed up. It was easy enough to climb the stairs two at a time until he reached their nest, then he quickly packed the necessities, pulled on his shirt and vest, and stuffed the knuckle duster into his belt. Carol'd want it back when he found her.


	6. Found

The first time she woke up in the strange hospital, Beth had brought her food. She was in some sort of recovery room, except it wasn't just a room. It was a holding cell. Beth shared what she needed to know in an urgent whisper, including the fact that Michonne was in the next corridor over, and they'd had to keep her tranquilized. 

Carol nodded in understanding, took her food, and after the first few unappetizing bites, passed out once again. 

The second time, Beth was there again, with more food. Carol took it but suspected it was drugged. Why were they keeping them locked up? Why only women? What were they doing? She didn't ask the questions. She kept her mouth shut. 

Except when Beth was leaving she gripped her wrist and made her turn, then whispered quickly, "There's a plan." 

Beth nodded once, then scurried away.

She managed to hold out for a while, at least a few hours, before desperation drove her to drink out of the cup on her tray. She didn't remain conscious for too much longer.

The third time she came around, all hell had broken loose. She rolled away just in time to dodge a walker coming at her, and put the hospital bed between herself and the threat. Carol willed her sluggish limbs to cooperate, and she rammed the bed into the walker, then made her escape.

The corridors were filled with smoke. Something was burning somewhere, and she covered her mouth with the hem of her shirt. 

Carol tripped over bodies, bending to grab a chair for a weapon and hold it out in front of her as she hurried through the corridors. Where was Beth? Michonne? Were there others? They had to be there, but she only saw the dead. 

She used her chair to good effect, but the effort was draining her. Her arms felt like lead, and the floor was slippery with blood. Swinging the chair around, she smashed the face of one walker, then used the legs to finish the job as the body hit the floor. Then, she turned and rammed the chair into the belly of the next that had come upon her. 

There were too many. Fatigue and the remnants of whatever they'd given her made her sluggish. She took out one more walker with the chair, but lost her grip. There was another right behind it. There was no way she was going to give up, though. She kicked at it, but slipped in the blood on the floor and fell to the ground. 

The walker was on top of her in a second, teeth gnashing. Carol struggled with it, keeping it at bay, but her strength was draining rapidly. She didn't have much more in her. This was it. 

A thought flashed through her mind: she'd never see him again. 

She didn't know why he'd disappeared that morning, and she'd run out in blind panic to find him. It had been a stupid, rash thing to do, but she'd been so overwhelmed with fright at the thought of him gone, she'd lost her mind. 

And now it didn't matter, because she'd never find him again.

Carol raised her arms in front of her face in one last effort to ward off the end. When the expected assault didn't come, she froze. Her heart pounded like thunder. Slowly, she lowered her arms, and as her vision cleared, she saw the walker that had been ready to finish her being dragged away. 

And then he was there, reaching out his hand, helping her up, folding her into his arms. 

"Daryl," she sobbed.


	7. Aftermath

"Is she alive?"

Daryl's head snapped up from where he cradled Carol against his chest. Rick had stepped through the smoke that was billowing out the other end of the corridor. 

"Yeah," he said. "Just weak. She passed out."

Rick nodded, relief washing over his face. "Okay. C'mon then. We gotta get out of here. We're not gonna be able to hold much longer."

"What about the others?" Daryl hoisted Carol up into his arms. She was feather light. Hard to believe that a woman made of steel could be this light. 

"Beth was able to show us where Michonne was. We got her out. Just us left." Rick stabbed a walker with his knife in the head, bones crunching with the force of the blow, then booted another out of the way. "Follow me. Don't stop."

Daryl followed his friend, his crossbow bouncing on his back and Carol limp in his arms. Rick lead them out of harms way, handling the walkers in the close confines of the hospital so that Daryl didn't have to worry about them. They took a stairwell that was mostly clear and eventually burst into the sunlight outside. 

Maggie was waiting in car outside, with Glenn acting as point and shooting walkers from out of the passenger side. "C'mon, let's go," she said as she revved the engine. "The others are gone already."

"Thanks for waiting," Rick said with a grim look. 

"Yeah well, if you don't get your sorry asses in right now, we're not waiting any longer," Glenn said as he popped a walker in the head at close range. "Pretty soon we won't be able to hold 'em off."

Rick yanked open the car door, and Daryl maneuvered to get him and Carol inside. He winced as he hit his head on the door frame and then got jammed by his weapon. He almost didn't have a chance to slide over before Rick was piling in behind him and Maggie put her foot on the gas. 

The car jerked away with the door still hanging open, and Rick kicked a walker away before slamming it shut. 

They hit the road at speed, leaving the hoard in sluggish disarray.

"Fuck! Yes!" Glenn crowed as he pulled himself back into the passenger seat from the open window. 

Maggie whooped along with him, laughing and gasping with adrenaline. "We did it, we got 'em back. We did it!"

Daryl tucked Carol's into the crook of his arm and bent his head to touch hers. He squeezed his eyes shut. Who knew relief could hurt this much? 

Rick was casting worried glances at her. He leaned close and said in a low voice, "Are you sure she's gonna be okay?"

Daryl shook his head. "Ain't sure of nothing but one thing. Ain't never gonna leave her ever again."

"Look," Rick said, "we've found somewhere. It's safe. For now. We'll hole up for a while and get everyone back on their feet. She'll be fine. She's stronger than she looks."

Daryl felt her stir, her eyes fluttered open briefly, then she slid out of consciousness once more. He squeezed her closer. Maybe Rick was right. He learned one time how coal, when it was buried and put under pressure and stress, would turn into diamond. That diamond and coal were the same stuff, essentially. That was his Carol. That strength had always been there bright and hard just beneath her skin, right from the start. She was diamond at her core. 

He brushed his lips across her forehead, not caring what the others saw or thought. From here on out, it was them, together.


	8. Retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: references to rape.

They were only supposed to stay for a week at the place Rick had found. Turned out to be months.

 

Beth was pregnant.

 

Carol followed the girl around with her eyes, still unsure of the circumstances at the hospital that had lead to her condition. According to Beth's sister, the girl wouldn't even confide in her about what had happened. Carol could guess, but she didn't have to. Beth's hollow look spoke volumes.

 

She, herself, still retained the scars from that encounter. Carol winced as she moved about the kitchen. There was a scar the right side of her abdomen, not the jagged edge of flesh ripped in combat, but the precise line of a surgical incision. They'd taken something from her, and god only knew what, but despite the pain which she'd been in those first few weeks which had settled into a dull ache, she really wasn't any worse off than before. Unlike Beth.

 

The girl's distended belly grew along with her fear.

 

Carol was trying to make something of the rabbit kill Daryl had brought her, but her hands were shaking so much she was worried about slicing her fingers. She'd had a nightmare last night about Lori. She couldn't begin to imagine the fear that Beth was going through.

 

A hand gently touched her shoulder, and she flinched. Carol spun around to find Daryl staring at her with that hopeless look he always wore nowadays.

 

"You okay?"

 

She shrugged. "Gotta be."

 

"How're you feeling?"

 

She frowned. His words piqued her anger more than she expected. "Jesus, Daryl, I was fine an hour ago when you asked me and I was fine yesterday when you asked me."

 

He held up his hands and shrunk in on himself. "Was only asking."

 

The kicked puppy look of his immediately made her feel guilty, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Sorry," she said. "I'm just on edge today."

 

"We all are."

 

"I guess." She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry. I have to get dinner prepped. You don't need to hang around in here, I'm not going anywhere."

 

He dropped his head and nodded, then turned and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving her to the bloody carcass on the chopping board.

 

Carol sighed. The first week of her recovery, he'd hovered over her constantly, and it was fine, it really was, but when she'd started to feel more herself, the way he treated her with kid gloves began to rub her raw. What was worse was that besides when it was absolute necessity, Daryl refused  to touch her, and they'd certainly not been anywhere close to being intimate again.

 

She snorted to herself at how ridiculous it was. They shared a goddamn bed, for crying out loud. Yet she had to lie there every night with his back turned to her and a good half a foot between them, and watch him snore.

 

It didn't matter. But something had to change, like the pretense that everything was fine. It was not fine, she was not fine. Carol stabbed the rabbit with her knife, then sank her head to rest on the butt of the handle.

 

After dinner, they all retreated to their areas. Glenn, Maggie and Beth were upstairs, Michonne, Rick, Carl and Judith had the family room. She couldn't believe how much she missed some of the others, Tyreese included, but they'd followed Abraham and his group to DC. They'd all parted on good terms with promises to follow on as soon as they could, but those promises were slowly fading away.

 

Carol puttered in the kitchen, the only place she could be alone until she thought it was safe to creep into the small back room she shared with Daryl. When she entered, he wasn't asleep as she'd expected. He was sitting on the bed, waiting for her.

 

Daryl looked up as she walked into the room and chewed on his thumbnail.

 

She set her rifle down next to the bed, where she could reach it if she had to, and undid her knife from her belt, putting it on the nightstand, then she sat down to unbuckle her boots.

 

"I'm sorry," he said, he voice so quiet she barely caught the huffed out words.

 

Carol tensed. "For what?"

 

"Everything. Everything you been through. I shoulda been there. For you. For Beth."

 

Carol let out a breath and continued to tug her boots until they came free. "If you'd have been there you would be dead. They didn't keep any men around except for the ones loyal to them."

 

"But maybe I coulda stopped them from doing what they did to you."

 

His words were a low grumble, and Carol flew around to face him. "I've alive, okay. You and Rick and the others saved me. See, still breathing. I'm still here. What's the point of shoulda's and coulda's? It's over. It's been over for months."

 

"But you're not--" He swallowed what he was about to say, then clamped his mouth firmly shut.

 

"I'm not what?" Carol felt her face flush with anger. "What, Daryl? What?"

 

He dropped his head. "You're not the same. Okay. What they did you you, it… it changed you. The assholes did something to you."

 

She shook her head. "Is that it? Huh? Is that why it's so hard for you to look at me? Why you can't even touch me? Do you think they did to me what they did to Beth?"

 

He leaped up from the bed. "No! Jesus! Why the fuck would that make me not want to…" Daryl couldn't finish his sentence. Instead he stared at her. Finally, he said, "Is that what you think?"

 

"What am I supposed to think? Ever since you rescued me, you've been hovering over me like somebody's grandma, yet you can't even bring yourself to touch me. Do I disgust you, Daryl?"

 

He flinched at that. "I was giving you time. Fuck. I thought you might, I dunno, tell me what it was that happened to you, but you just needed some damn time to sort it out. I figured things would work itself out. Didn't want to do anything 'less you asked me." He hung his head and shook it. "I got it all wrong."

 

"Daryl… I don't know… I don't know what happened to me." She swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat as she thought about it, and she stood and crossed the room to him. With shaking fingers she fumbled with her top and pulled it from where it was tucked into her pants. She revealed the pink scar on her abdomen to him.

 

"Jesus." Daryl reached out and placed his hand on the skin just below the scar, his touch as soft as a breeze.

 

"I think they took something, but how would I know? I don't even remember." She choked on the last word, and his hand slipped around her hip and pulled her close.

 

It took a moment for her to unbend as he held her, but when she did, it was like a damn breaking inside her, and the flood washed through her. She tucked her head against his chest and cried.

  
  



End file.
